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That comment has me slowly turning around. “Chevelle. You know her name, Dad.”
My dad disregards what I say. Not because he means disrespect to the Greene family. He should be thankful they gave me a realistic expectation of what a family is. Otherwise, I’d think it was normal to be left alone for the holidays while your parents go on vacation. Or even worse, maybe they drag you along by yourself since you have no siblings. Other than one time when I was fourteen and they let me bring Fisher to our house in Hawaii, anytime I was forced to go away with them, I was flying solo.
There were a lot of lonely times in my family. Mostly when all three of us were in the same room.
My dad sits on the sofa in my office and props one leg on top of his other knee. “It’s time to embark on our next business venture, and I’d like you to head it up.”
I rest my ass on the edge of the desk, crossing my ankles with my hands on either side of my hips. My gaze keeps diverting outside, even though Chevelle and her boat full of piss-drunk guys won’t be back for about two hours and thirty-seven minutes.
Hey, it’s my job to know when every boat leaves and comes back. It’s standard practice for boats like hers to log their trips so that if they run into trouble and don’t return, someone knows where to look.
“What next business venture?” I ask.
“Rowdy didn’t make rent.”
That causes me to focus on my dad. “What?”
“You know Rowdy, who tried to decrease prices with the hopes his business would pick up? He said it’s his last month. He’s done.”
Unlike my dad, who only thinks of an open marina spot as a chance to jack the rent on the next person, I hate seeing people go out of business. Especially a guy like Rowdy, who’s been here since before I was born.
“I think we should cut him a deal.” I scan the marina once again.
My dad shakes his head. “You gotta harden that soft spot, son. There’s no place in business for it.”
“Well, there’s something to be said for old-timers. I know Rowdy has helped Chevelle over the years. He mentors the young people who come in and will eventually take over.”
A long, exhausted sigh leaves my dad’s lips. “Let’s put Rowdy aside for right now. It’s time we start our own touring business, and I want you to run it.”
“Why, when we have two charter companies at the marina already?”
“Because Rowdy probably won’t be here much longer and because it’s a thriving business and I’m not one to ignore an already successful business model. Plus, you need to learn what it’s like to start a new business before I just hand you mine.” He raises his graying eyebrows.
My dad’s been holding the reins of the company for years even though my mom wants him to take more time off.
“What do you have in mind?” I ask.
“Let’s face it, Sunrise Bay isn’t the same Podunk fishing town it once was.”
“Like when you came and snatched the entire marina up for yourself?” I shouldn’t be snide with my dad. It never ends well. But I’m feeling protective over Chevelle again, and the last thing I’d ever be comfortable doing is putting her out of business.
“I haven’t heard you complaining when you use the money I’ve made to live the life you do.” Both those gray eyebrows shoot up and I glance away. “That’s what I thought. Anyway, it would be different than Chevelle’s. We wouldn’t be focusing on horny Joe Blows looking for a party. We’d be catering to a more sophisticated clientele. Sure, there’d be fishing, but that would come secondary to the cocktails and caviar on board.”
I don’t ask for further clarification because I’m not even entertaining the idea anyway.
“I figure since we’re in the middle of tourist season right now, we can have a soft opening before the season’s over.”
“And what about my responsibilities here?” I look around my office.
“I’ll take them over—for now.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose. “And if I refuse?”
He stands from the sofa and follows my line of vision out toward the bay. “Then you’ll be cut off.”
He’s threatened for years to cut me off financially and it’s never gonna happen. There’s no way he’d leave his legacy to anyone but his only son. No fucking way.
“How about I think about it? Give me two weeks or so to finish off the sablefish season. Then we can talk.”
